


What Kind of Fool Am I?

by Celestial_Alignment



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Alignment/pseuds/Celestial_Alignment
Summary: While attending a wedding, Jim wonders why he has never fallen in love.... Or has he?
Relationships: Artemus Gordon & James West, Artemus Gordon/James West
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	What Kind of Fool Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little blurb inspired by "What Kind of Fool Am I?" by Sammy Davis Jr.

“I now pronounce you man and wife!”

The groom lifted the veil and placed a sweet kiss on his bride, the wedding guests clapped, and the organ played as they walked down the aisle together.

Two hours later, the reception was in full swing, a waltz was playing in the ballroom of the governor’s mansion, the ladies’ skirts swaying as they twirled with their partners. The bride was Sarah Fredrickson, the governor’s daughter, and the one who had invited James West and Artemus Gordon to her wedding. A year prior, the two secret service agents had rescued her from a kidnapper with an agenda to use her a leverage against her father in a plot to take over the territory. She never forgot West and Gordon and they were duly invited by her and the groom alike.

Both Jim and Artie had a dance or two with some lovely wedding guests, and as the night went on, they found each other again and stood with their glasses of champagne in the corner of the room, donned in their tuxedos, and enjoying the music, drink, food, and dancing. It was a happy occasion. So why, out of nowhere, did Jim suddenly feel… down? He blamed the drink and the late hour (though it never affected him before) and he assumed it would pass as quickly as it came. The longer he watched the happy newlyweds, the worse it got.

Artie was distracted for a moment in deep conversation with another distinguished guest and Jim didn’t want to interrupt. He discreetly set his glass onto the tray of a passing waiter and began to slip past the other guests. He made his way along the edge of the room until he came to the terrace doors which led out to the balcony that overlooked the garden, the music in the ballroom getting farther and farther away, the din of the people fading into the chorus of crickets that filled the night. After being in a stuffy room with so many people, and getting generally overheated from drink and dance, the cool breeze felt heavenly and he took in a lungful as he leaned both hands on the railing and looked out at the garden beneath. It was bathed in blue, a sharp contrast to the gold light of the party behind him.

“Jim?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Artemus step through the terrace doors, latching them behind to close out the sound.

“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to…” he smiled, though there was curiosity or maybe concern in his eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jim managed a small smile. “Just stepped out for a smoke.”

“Yeah?” Artie leaned one elbow on the stone rail, facing Jim. “And, uh… How is that smoke?”

Artie called him out with simple glance to Jim’s empty hands.

Jim looked his partner in the eye and reached into this jacket to pull out a slim cigarillo. He held it up for Artie to see, put it between his teeth. Before he could dig in his pockets for matches, Artie already had one lit.

“Thanks…” Jim leaned forward to touch the tip of the cigarillo over the flame until it was glowing, and when he leaned away again, Artie shook out the match.

“Beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it?” Artie had a hint of a dreamy tone as he looked out at the dark garden.

“Sure was,” said Jim, but his chest hurt. He puffed the cigarillo absently.

They shared the silence for a moment, Jim’s mind roiling with thoughts that he couldn’t connect to the downward feelings.

“Artie? Mind if I ask you somethin’?” he began quietly, his words slightly muffled before he pulled the cigarillo from his mouth.

“You may ask me anything, James.”

“How many times have you been in love?”

Artie let out a long exhale that puffed his cheeks, and he scratched at the back of his head. “Well, that’s a loaded question… Too many times, I’d wager. I’ll be the first to admit, I often fall easily and fall hard…” He laughed.

Jim smiled with him. “You really meant it when you wanted to marry Lily Fortune…”

“I did,” Artie sighed. “I think it’s for the better that I didn’t, though. She was right, you know. Being the wife of someone like me is no life for anyone…”

“I’m still sorry it didn’t work out for you, Artie. Truly.”

“Thanks, Jim…”

Jim leaned both elbows on the rail now, bent forward to take the strain off his back from the forced good posture all day and night. He craved lounging on the sofa in their train right now. It wasn’t like him to want to leave a party.

Artie didn’t turn the question back on him about being in love, and he was right not to. James West had his fair share of conquests, but there was never a girl he felt he couldn’t live without. And Jim realized that that was what might have been giving him the blues, and he quietly spoke the epiphany out loud.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

There was a beat, and Artie leaned on the rail with both elbows, too, shoulder to shoulder, mirroring him.

“There’s no crime in that,” he said softly. “You’re a very complex man, James. If there is a woman out there who could capture that steel heart of yours, she would, by necessity, have to be something very exceptional.”

“Aphrodite, Helen of Troy, and Lola Montez, huh?”

Artie chuckled softly. “That’s very specific, but something like that, I suppose… With all the lovely creatures that have come and gone in your life, love should be the least of your concerns. Some would say you’re blessed.”

Jim managed a modest smile, his chin dipping as he looked at the cigarillo that was burning away between his fingers. He didn’t even feel like smoking, he only lit it to prove a point.

“I’ve known a lot of incredible women,” he murmured. “Then some who were not so incredible, but they were fun to pass the time with… But living my whole life and never falling in love?”

Jim never had self-esteem issues, but the practical side of him had to wonder if there was something defective about him to have not had those very human feelings towards any one of the women he had been with.

“Love’s not all that it’s cracked up to be…” Artie said, his profile still towards his partner. “It’s all sentimentality with some animal instincts mixed in, no one does it on purpose. Extreme euphoria and devastating depression. One minute your on top of a mountain, the next plunging into the bottom of a swamp. It’s hazardous to one’s health, that’s probably why you stay so fit and healthy. It’s as wonderful as it is debilitating and it’s pure luck when the person feels the same way that you do. Miss Fredrickson—I mean, _Mrs_. Barr—is one of the lucky ones…” he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder back to the wedding.

“Hm.”

Jim made the noncommittal noise as he slumped a little further, his tuxedo strangling him on all sides. It almost seemed as though Artie was trying to paint it in as undesirable a light as possible, so as to make Jim feel better in his deprivation. He tapped out the embers of his cigarillo on the stone rail, twisting it a little until it cooled, and he toyed with it for a bit before tucking it back into his jacket pocket.

“Thing is, Artie, I like women. I love women in general, I love the idea of women. I enjoy it when they’re interested in me. But I haven’t met one that I liked to be around for more than a day, let alone _marry_ one…”

Artie nodded his understanding, but he licked his lips and turned a little towards Jim. “You can’t keep spending all your time with little old _me_ , though. We haven’t had a moment apart for the past four days.”

“Why not, Artie?” Jim asked honestly.

“Why not?” Artie huffed and shook his head. “Because sooner or later one or both of us are gonna have to get married. Those are the facts of life.” He threw a hand out over the garden, as if it proved his point.

Jim frowned out at the dark, unsatisfied.

“Look…” Artie set an arm across Jim’s shoulders, his weight against Jim, comforting. That’s how every touch felt from Artie. It was his whole being, warm and deliberate. There was nothing on earth that could sooth Jim like his friend’s touch. Artie continued. “I don’t know what brought on this… frankly _depressing_ introspection, but I prescribe that we go back inside, have more drinks and dancing and enjoy bachelorhood while we can.”

Artie moved to depart, but Jim reached over his shoulder to grab Artie by the wrist, to keep his arm over him. “Not yet, Artie…”

His friend paused with surprise and hesitantly leaned in again. “Boy, you really are down in the dumps tonight… You okay?”

Jim’s hand had moved from Artie’s wrist to his fingers, squeezing them, his thumb grazing across the knuckles.

“You said I can’t keep spending all my time with you… But that’s all I want to do, Artie. How am I supposed to fall in love with anybody when I keep comparing the way I feel about them to the way I feel about you?”

He said it as he thought it, the words having no chance to filter through his brain before coming out of his mouth. Jim was still looking out into the garden as he spoke, he couldn’t see Artie’s face, but he could feel his hand shaking in his grip.

“I care about you too, Jim…” his voice was low, tremulous. “You’re my best friend. But you can’t compare how you feel about a friend to the person you might marry one day…”

Jim was beginning to understand now. It was all coming together, the feelings that he was suffering from because of this wedding. Artie talked about the highs and the lows of love, and Jim felt them all, and all for Artie. The man was more than his friend. If he was ever to marry someone, he wouldn’t want it to be someone _like_ Artie. He wanted Artie himself. He understood it clear as day now, and the understanding gave him his old confidence back. It didn’t worry him that Artie might not have felt the same way, because he felt it in the shaking of his hand. The way that Artie looked at him. Artie felt the same way, he must have. 

Jim gripped his hand firmly so that he could turn around and still have that arm around his shoulders. They were face to face now, so close that he could practically taste the champagne on Artie’s lips, the caviar he’d been indulging in.

“Artie,” he said sternly, canting his head a little as he had to lift his gaze, just a little, to meet Artie’s eye. “I just realized something.”

Artie’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Oh?” his voice was high.

“I have been in love. For awhile now, actually.”

He was sure he detected fear in Artie’s eye, a chaotic mixture of hope dread, and defeat. But somewhere in there was that gleam of hope, just waiting to be fanned to life. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?”

Jim smiled.


End file.
